Wider Circle

The edge of the morning sky turns pink, The stars scatter their final gleam. Crowds of idiots lay siege to paradise, But not everyone gets in! Crowds of idiots, with bulging eyes, Bash their foreheads against the heavenly gates. God's creatures weep, tear after tear. Everyone is dying to get in! Blood washes over battered brows. Everyone desires a happy fate! Blood washes over battered brows. Everyone desires a happy fate! Somewhere in the heavenly groves, like a fabulous dream, The pop swamp is bubbling! For the sake of this goal, with your empty head, Beat against the gates, you creature!